London To Work

Maybe it's because I'm a Londoner, That's how the song goes. I am proud of this city, And it has been sung about in many a ditty. Each day I get on bus 341, And my journey through history has just begun. Left over Waterloo Bridge, Over the Strand which stands like a little low ridge. Tight around Aldwych, past the brightly lit theatres, Where ghosts of old actors drift around like real spectres. Next the Royal Courts of Justice where laws are obeyed, Where the innocent need not be afraid. Straight on along Fleet Street and up Ludgate Hill, Keep on going straight until you reach the turning left toward Snow Hill. 2 more stops and get off at Farringdon Station, and I am nearly at my place of work. A short walk along Cow Cross Lane, And my days toil starts over again. I work at Smithfield's, the market for meat, It's really really busy so hold on to your seat. Porters fly around with a sheep on their shoulder, And there's pallets of beef as big as a boulder. There are people and produce every where, So make sure you are careful and steady on the stair. The market has run all through the night, Then in the morning as it starts to get light. Everything just disappears and the market is clear. Time to get back on my bus, without to much fuss I reverse through history again.